So, hi:
I used to be a regular on this site last year, when I was called cutriver. Then I had to go away for six months or so, but now I'm back (I make it sound as though I've been in prison: it was better than that
)
Having spent several hours this afternoon connecting my new adsl line and messing about with webmail and various other chores, and having had to try about six times before the wonky SG join-up page would work, and having realised that I still can't work the friggin' photos on this thing, I don't have the energy to try and introduce myself properly, nor to try and explain where I've been and what I've been up to for the past six months or so. Hopefully it will all emerge gradually. In the meantime, I have decided the best thing to do is just to carry on with my journal as though I never went away, in the hope that newcomers won't be appalled by the non-seqiturs and cetera (and the, y'know, moral cloudiness of it all...)
To wit:
Last night I dreamt that I was in the bathroom of some sort of stately home (like Longleat in Kenilworth) when I saw written on the wall a lengthy advertisement from a young French woman living in Leamington and offering sex at 150 a time. This got me to thinking that I should start advertising my own tarot-shiatsu-oral sex proposition (that I remember mentioning on this site some time last year) (dispensed for free, natch), both licitly (in shop windows, on the internet) and illicitly (on bathroom walls).
Fantasising about this over the course of the morning's reading (Shadows of the Mind: A Search for the Missing Science of Consciousness by Roger Penrose), and thinking, still, about the Strength tarot (that loomed large in last full moon's spread), I am reminded of Mark Eitzel's unforgettable, unfathomable (non-computable, Penrose might say) line from 'The Thorn in my Side is Gone':
'When they talk about strength I know they don't mean a touch that only love can understand.'
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I'm back, kids.
I used to be a regular on this site last year, when I was called cutriver. Then I had to go away for six months or so, but now I'm back (I make it sound as though I've been in prison: it was better than that
)
Having spent several hours this afternoon connecting my new adsl line and messing about with webmail and various other chores, and having had to try about six times before the wonky SG join-up page would work, and having realised that I still can't work the friggin' photos on this thing, I don't have the energy to try and introduce myself properly, nor to try and explain where I've been and what I've been up to for the past six months or so. Hopefully it will all emerge gradually. In the meantime, I have decided the best thing to do is just to carry on with my journal as though I never went away, in the hope that newcomers won't be appalled by the non-seqiturs and cetera (and the, y'know, moral cloudiness of it all...)
To wit:
Last night I dreamt that I was in the bathroom of some sort of stately home (like Longleat in Kenilworth) when I saw written on the wall a lengthy advertisement from a young French woman living in Leamington and offering sex at 150 a time. This got me to thinking that I should start advertising my own tarot-shiatsu-oral sex proposition (that I remember mentioning on this site some time last year) (dispensed for free, natch), both licitly (in shop windows, on the internet) and illicitly (on bathroom walls).
Fantasising about this over the course of the morning's reading (Shadows of the Mind: A Search for the Missing Science of Consciousness by Roger Penrose), and thinking, still, about the Strength tarot (that loomed large in last full moon's spread), I am reminded of Mark Eitzel's unforgettable, unfathomable (non-computable, Penrose might say) line from 'The Thorn in my Side is Gone':
'When they talk about strength I know they don't mean a touch that only love can understand.'
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I'm back, kids.
marloski:
Welcome...back!!!!